Barely Yours Read Free

around the park for Tabby while simultaneously gathering up my files, all the while trying to calm down an increasingly hysterical Marsha.
    “Tabby?” I shout, scanning the park. “Come back here at once!”
    Then into the phone: “No, not you Marsha. Yes, I know where you are. Now listen to me for just a moment. The first thing you need to do is calm down .”
    But even as I’m talking, I can feel my own stress levels skyrocketing. So many things need my attention, and if I could only concentrate on one damn thing at a time.
    “Just hold on a second, Marsha,” I snap, trying to snatch a final sheaf of papers moments before they flutter maddeningly out of reach, all the while still frantically scanning the park for Tabby.
    Finally, I’ve gathered the papers and stuffed them back into my briefcase, whilst carefully laying out for Marsha the next steps to stop this deal from falling through entirely.
    “Now listen to me, Marsha,” I explain. “The very second you get off the phone to me, you need to call Jerry . Tell Jerry what you just told me, and just say, Will says it’s time for the Windsor plan. ”
    I anxiously scan the park again as I talk, searching for the bright red of Tabitha’s coat amongst the other children. She’s only been gone a few seconds and she knows not to run too far away from me. Damn it. She has to be here somewhere.
    “The Windsor plan?’ says a confused Marsha.
    “The Windsor Plan,” I repeat through gritted teeth, my blood beginning to boil. “Don’t worry, Marsha. Jerry’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.”
    I spin around, flustered, still wondering where the hell Tabby has got to .
    “And in the meantime ...”
    But I stop mid-sentence.
    Because I’m suddenly face to face with a beautiful girl. An angel. An angel who’s holding my daughter in her arms – the very same daughter who never talks to anyone , now chattering away happily to this total stranger.
    “Just say the Windsor Plan. I’ll call you back, Marsha,” I say, quickly hanging up the call and slipping my iPhone back into my blazer pocket. “Thank you,” I begin to say to the stranger, but as I scan her pretty features, I realise she isn’t quite such a stranger after all.
    “You’re,” I say, hesitantly. “You’re the ... girl from the shop.”
    “The very same!” she says cheerily in her bright American accent. “Madame Iris’s Baby Boutique at your service. I think you might have lost this ?” she adds, her green eyes gesturing down to my daughter, miraculously happy in this girl’s slim tanned arms.
    “Oh my God, thank you, thank you,” I say, taking Tabitha and holding her tight against me. “And Tabby, what have I told you about running off like that?”
    I turn back to the girl, taking her in all over again. She’s got thick, wavy chestnut hair and a healthy glowing tan. She’s slim but not stick thin, and either she’s a little taller than most girls I meet or maybe it’s simply the way she holds herself. She’s casually dressed in black skinny jeans and a plain grey t-shirt that I’m guessing is supposed to hide her curves, but in fact only shows them off even more. For a second my eyes are drawn to something on the inside of her left forearm, which I slowly realize is a delicate intricate tattoo ; some sort of flower design. I always thought tattoos were tasteless, but this one only seems to enhance her beauty.
    Christ man, pull yourself together , I admonish myself, when I realise I’ve just been flat out gawping at her.
    “I can’t thank you enough,” I say, trying to push any untoward thoughts from my mind. “Tabby means the world to me. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her.”
    To my surprise, the girl blushes. “Actually?” she says, a sheepish smile flickering at the corners of her lips. “I think it kinda might have been my fault.”
    “Whatever do you mean?” I ask, honestly confused.
    “Well, she recognised me from across the park